Holding Back and Moving On
by Aleanbh
Summary: Lisbon had two years in Washington which we didn't get to see. This is just one might-have-been: She's a mystery to the people of Cannon River, and to one especially. (Jane x Lisbon, OC)


**AN:** _Just a little pre 6x09 story set while Lisbon's a police chief in Cannon River. There was so much we missed out on with the time-jump, so this might just be one way to fill in some of the gaps! Ties in with the beginning of 6x09. Hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!_

* * *

Peter sighs as he pushes open the door. Trust him to get roped into doing this. He was a maths teacher, for goodness sake, this was the last thing he should be doing right now. Teaching maths was all he knew; well, until this September when he'd been assigned to the Careers' Department, God help them all. He was still a new enough teacher in the school – despite being in his mid-thirties, he has still been deemed to be a youngster according to some of the powers that be in his school. It was just this type of area, that was all, and he shouldn't complain. They were tight-knit here, and you were deemed a blow-in without generations here before you. Good people, though, in this quiet town.

So the task had fallen to him, and here he was.

"You wouldn't mind, would you, Peter?" Ms Stevenson had said, only vaguely disguising her command as a request.

"Not at all, Ms Stevenson," he had replied through unconsciously tightened lips.

He didn't like asking favours of people, liked to work for and to deserve anything he was given – perhaps that was why he had gone into teaching in the first place. But here he was, rounding up local professionals in an attempt at coercing them into granting the school's requests for them to come and share their experience with their 6th Grade class.

His morning 10th Grade class were on a field trip today, and he'd had the morning free, so he had decided to take his chances. His last glance down at his watch had told him it was nearing half past eleven, and already this morning he'd spoken to a shopkeeper, a paramedic, and a solicitor, even if he ha d missed out on the butcher, baker and candlestick maker in between. He'd been putting this last one off. Honestly, as if the aging, tired police chief that served this little town would want anything more than to see him coming, asking favours, just in time to intrude upon lunch. He is still imagining the raised eyebrows, the humouring of his request when he opens the door and steps in.

A lanky young man hovers around the reception desk, looking quite startled at the interruption. He doesn't quite look as though he should be out of school himself.

"Hi," Peter says. "Would it be possible, I wonder, to speak to the police chief?"

The young man looks at him.

"Don't worry," Peter laughs stiltedly to break the silence. "It's not an emergency."

The man nods. "One moment, please," and he disappears down the corridor.

Peter stands, waiting. He can imagine the scene, this young, somewhat ineffective protégé of the older shoes just biding time until he might take over one day. The young man comes back and gestures Pete down the corridor, nodding as he passes.

Pete braces himself. Already today he's dealt with a snooty lawyer and a shopkeeper who simply didn't have the time. He didn't like being a nuisance. Still, better get this over and done. Imagining the next face he's about to annoy, he's still trying to shake an image of the red-faced grump police officer when he enters the room and sees – _her_.

He almost laughs on the spot. Serve him right for jumping to conclusions. He becomes aware that his heart is thudding a little heavier on seeing her, the new police chief, it seems, a woman, and forgive him for saying so, but a very pretty one too. He wonders vaguely if this was why he'd thought he'd seen a certain glint in Ms Stevenson's eye as he'd set off from school this morning.

" Can I help you, sir?" he hears and he snaps back to this moment. Her voice is clear and pleasant, a not-quite smile in place. He thinks at first glance that her eyes look a little sad and he wonders briefly what her story could be.

"Good morning, -"

"Lisbon. Chief Lisbon."

"Morning, Chief. My name is Peter, I'm a teacher at Cannon Middle School. I'm afraid I'm here to ask a favour, if you don't mind."

She listens intently to his request and he expands on the event in question, answering her questions.

"I'm sure that'll be fine," she says softly. "I should be able to take time out of my mad schedule to fit that in, I daresay." She smiles coyly.

"What, pace of Cannon River not living up to expectations?" He laughs.

She smirks good naturedly in agreement. "Something like that."

"Well, it's a small town," he says kindly. "I've been here a couple of years and I'm still a blow-in."

She smiles. "Glad to hear it's not just me," she says.

He smiles at her warmly.

"Well, I don't want to intrude on that hectic schedule of yours any longer," he says eventually. "Thanks so much, Chief," he says. "I'll be in touch."

"Great, Pete," she says. "I look forward to hearing from you."

Peter finds he has a spring in his step not usually found on Thursday afternoons as he heads to his class after lunch. He meets Ms Stevenson on the corridor and tilts his head to her. "Afternoon, Ms," he smiles as he goes by.

* * *

Two weeks later, Pete finds himself at the back of his 6th Grade Maths class which has been sacrificed on this occasion to the Careers Department. Not that he minds as much as he probably should, though. Mrs Russell, the class form teacher had mentioned to him there was no onus on him to stay. He assured her he didn't mind.

Chief Lisbon had come as promised and currently holds the 6th Graders in the palm of her hand as they sit captivated by the thought of a real-life policewoman. She talks about having worked in different places, San Francisco and Sacramento. Peter has been glad to sit at the back of the class and for all his wondering about her over the last couple of weeks, finally does get to hear a little of her story. Granted, he cannot judge to its validity, he is no expert by any means, but he can guess she has seen more, been through more than she is letting on to this 6th grade classroom. He'd picked up on it as he'd first met her, that there was more to her than she let on. He supposed everyone was the same. He'd certainly been experienced with that in his role as teacher these last few years.

She intrigues him.

Before too long, she is finishing up the session, dodging some of the less delicate questions she has been faced with.

"Thank you, Chief Lisbon," the kids chorus under Mrs Russell's instruction, and when he looks up from one of his pupil's questions, said Chief has gone.

Peter leaves the class, nodding to Mrs Russell and shuts the door quietly behind him. He looks down the corridor lined with lockers just in time to see her solitary figure disappear around the corner. Suddenly feeling very _young_ , following a pretty girl around the school, he continues in her path and catches up with her just outside the school building.

"Chief Lisbon," he says and she turns as though she were expecting him. He supposes her job as a police officer gives her the same sense of understanding about people as him.

"Peter," she says, smiling.

"Just wanted to say thanks for that," he says, gesturing back toward the school building. "It was really great, I think the kids really got a lot out of it."

"I'm glad," she says, pleased.

"So back to the ranch now, is it?" Peter is not quite sure what exactly it is that he wants to say.

She nods. "It was nice to get beyond those four walls for something good."

"I'm sure."

She nods again. "Speaking of which, I probably should get heading back."

"Oh, yes, of course," he nods. "Me too. Long division shouldn't be kept waiting either, I suppose."

She smiles.

"Well it was lovely to meet you, I hope it all goes well with the division."

She is turning to go. He needs to say something.

"Eh, Lisbon?"

He takes a step closer.

"Look, I'm really not up on the whole protocol of this, but-"

"Yes?" Her sad smile is back.

"I mean, I'd really like to, you know, meet up or see you again, if you ever wanted to."

She is looking at him. She really is very beautiful.

"Peter, I-"

"Look, don't even worry about it, honestly. It was just an idea." He realises he is quite nervous about this.

"No, I-"

"No?"

"Yes. I mean, yeah, sure, I'd like to meet up, that'd be great," she says quietly.

"You're sure?"

She pauses a beat and he wonders what she's thinking. "Yeah," she says finally. "I think it might be good."

A few moments later they part, and is only then he begins to wonder what she'd meant.

* * *

They go on their date later that week and she is everything he had hoped she would be. She is quiet though, always seems to be holding herself back, and he wants to know why. He doesn't push it though, or even bring it up, for he simply does not know her that well.

He has a good time, and he thinks she does too. He makes her laugh a couple of times and he is glad of it, because he gets the feeling she doesn't laugh very often. Again, it makes him wonder.

They drive a couple of towns over, too many eyes in Cannon River for two people to make a go of it. They have a meal and go for a walk. It's simple, but he thinks that what she'd like, and he thinks he made the right choice. He think she has him charmed.

He asks her about herself, about her life before she came to Washington and she tells him that she had previously lived in California for many years. She seems to tense up a little as she mentions it so he tries to skim over it.

"Do you get back often?" he asks and she shakes her head.

"No, not really." She shrugs. "No reason to, I suppose."

She is quiet for a moment and then speaks again. Peter is not even sure she's fully aware that she's speaking at all. "My- All my friends are gone from there now. All moved on."

"Oh." Peter says, and then he doesn't know what to say, so he begins to talk about something else.

They get along just fine, but it throws him slightly that she does seem to hold herself back somehow. He drops her off at her house and they share a comfortable silence. She thanks him for the evening and kisses her on the cheek.

He watches as she walks away and his heart falls a little for he knows, despite his feelings for her, that he won't be the one watching her walking up that drive again.

* * *

They don't go on another date, but he sees her sometimes on the street, and there's no harm. They greet each other and somehow it isn't awkward. He still thinks she's very beautiful, and he can still make her smile. It's fine. It is what it is, and it knows what it wasn't.

* * *

A few weeks later, Pete's in the coffee shop on the side street, having run in to get a coffee to-go. He's in the queue when he sees her, sitting over a large mug of steaming coffee. She doesn't see him; she is absorbed by what appears to be a letter in her hands. She appears to be in a world of her own and so he decides not to disturb her. It is just then a woman in between himself and Lisbon catches the leg of Lisbon's chair beneath her with the wheel of the pram she is pushing, and Lisbon is burst out of the bubble in which she had been contained. She sees him and waves.

"Sitting down?" she mouths across the room and gestures to the free seat beside her.

He nods, and orders his coffee to sit-in instead.

"Peter," she says when he comes over, coffee in hand. She notices him see the letter and her eyes are pulled to where it is resting on the table. She appears to snap herself away from it, folds the pages firmly and wedges them under her saucer. He pretends not to notice.

"How are you?" she asks and they chat for a while. Peter is glad he has found a friend in her, despite his original wish for more. Their chat is natural and pleasing, and he is glad.

"I've just to nip up for a napkin," Lisbon says at one point, and she disappears up to the counter.

It's just then as she's gone that a young man comes in to the café and the door swings shut behind him. The urgent gust of wind pushes her letter from under the saucer. He doesn't feel bad as he innocently lifts it to return it to the table, but afterward he feels guilty for allowing his eyes to fall on its contents. " _Miss you all desperately_ " he sees, written in a slim, elegant hand. " _The way it used to be_ ", he doesn't so much as read as sees. " _You've given me so much._ " He purposefully darts his eyes away from this. It is clearly an intensely private communication. He doesn't know if he does it on purpose, but he lets his eyes fall on the letter's last words: " _Love, Patrick._ "

* * *

Teresa Lisbon leaves her post as Chief of Police in Cannon River a few months later. Peter is sorry to see her go, but it makes sense when she tells him about it over their last coffee.

"So what has Texas got that we don't have?" he asks her playfully, stirring the spoon in his mug and pretending to be offended.

"I don't know," she shakes her head. "Maybe I'm crazy. I'll be getting to work with old friends though. You know, from California. Jane, and Cho."

"Cho? I've never heard that before; not as a first name at least."

She looks at him a second before laughing.

"It's not," she smiles. "It's his surname. Jane's a surname too. _Kimball_ Cho, and _Patrick_ Jane."

He looks at her, and it begins to click into place.

" _Patrick_?" he asks.

She nods; looks a little taken aback at his words. "Yes."

He looks at her, and gives her a really true and good smile.

"What?" she asks, making a face at him.

He shakes his head and tries unsuccessfully to suppress the smile and the happiness he feel s for her. "Oh, nothing." He pauses. "It's just nice, that's all; that you'll be back with them again."

She smiles then too, and he sees for the first time that some of the sadness is gone from it.

"I think so too."


End file.
